Goodnight
by LannaKitty
Summary: Helen looked in on her many times during the ninety seven years Ashley was frozen.


Title: Goodnight

Author: Lanna_kitty

Summary: Helen looked in on her many times during the ninety seven years Ashley was frozen.

Category: Drama, Angst

Warnings: none

Spoilers: general season 1

Characters: Helen Magnus, James Watson

Disclaimer: Don't own them

AN: Thanks to oparu for the beta :) James and Helen friendship and/or UST. Their relationship and Helen's relationship with Ashley remain two of the more interesting ones for me in this series.

* * *

**November 1888**

The machine hissed and snapped, biting at the air. It was chilly in cellar of the house, which meant the nitrogen boiled off as a slightly slower rate. Not by much but she would take what she could. She carefully rechecked the dials and made careful notation next to the entry already present.

"You should be resting."

"I am fine, James," Helen assured her friend as she moved to check the gaskets. She winced as the muscles pulled and again when James touched her shoulder.

"Please sit," James insisted, pulling a chair out for her.

Helen eyed it then sank down with a grateful sigh. She ached, body and soul.

"You should be in bed," James scolded gently as he took the book of notations from her, placing it beside the machine.

"My place is here," she insisted, "I'm responsible, I should be he-" She broke off with a hiss of pain. "I should be here," Helen insisted with less force, but no less passion. Looking morosely at the vat, she asked, "have I done a horrible thing?"

Sighing, James sat in another chair. "No."

"No? Just no?"

"I will always give you my honest opinion Helen. I believe you have done the best thing you could with the best science at hand and in the short time required." He arched a brow in her direction, adding, "Your plan is quite brilliant if I may say so."

She allowed a small smile she didn't quite feel. "As you're so very intelligent, if you say it is brilliant it must be so?"

"Quite," he nodded.

Despite herself, she laughed, hissing in pain as the muscles in her abnomen protested.

"Please go back to sleep. You will be of no use to anyone if you collapse, strike your head and bleed to death before I can save you." Leaning forward he added, "I may be a genius but I'm not infallible, as we have seen."

"James," Helen reached for his hand. "None of us saw it. We're each guilty."

Shaking his head, James Watson patted her hand, noting how cold it felt. He wrapped his fingers around hers to warm them. "Please do not tempt fate for awhile. Rest, Helen."

"Have I ever stopped? Am I not tempting fate even now?" She nodded at the contraption that now contained her child.

Squeezing her hand, James Watson looked at the device he'd helped her create. "I believe you are a mother who cares very deeply for the wellbeing of her child and is willing to take any risk and measure necessary to see that child safe. Tempting fate? Perhaps." Squeezing her hand once more he added, "But I cannot think of a more noble cause, Helen."

Helen felt the sting of tears at her eyes again. She'd hoped to be done with tears, they seemed so irrational, so weak. One part of her wondered if it was a reaction to the surgery or the removal of the child or both. Another part of her wondered if it was because her heart had been shattered and its remains frozen in her cellar. Perhaps it was the terrible weight of everything in the recent past.

The rational thing to do was sleep before she collapsed or became seriously ill. Helen wanted to be here, to watch over the machine and her child, to ensure everything was working as she'd designed. Sleep did not come easily to her anymore and was no refuge when it did. Perhaps tonight she was exhausted enough dreams would not plague her.

"It will be safe? You'll look after it?" She asked, hating the waver in her voice.

"As if it were my own, Helen."

Nodding she asked, "allow me a moment?"

Bowing graciously, James retreated to the stairs, allowing her a moment of privacy. Standing slowly, Helen stood once again beside the machine as it hissed and whirred. It was silly but the tugging of her heart compelled Helen to kiss her fingertips and gently press them against the surface of the device. Her most fervent wish was that she had not erred in judgment and done more harm than good.

Making her painful way back to the stairs, she rested for a moment, leaning against the solid banister. Offering James a tight smile, she asked, "Help me up the stairs, please?"

Silently, James offered his arm.

* * *

**July 1889**

The machine hissed. Her carriage would arrive shortly and her bags were packed. She was headed for Egypt in mere hours, but she'd felt compelled to come down to the cellar. James would be watching the house and her patients while she was in Cairo, consulting with a colleague. It would be the first time she'd traveled out of the country since the surgery and though she was loathe to leave, she knew she had to do so sometime.

The wooden casing was smooth under her touch. Beaded condensation stuck to the metal parts where the chilly steel met the muggy July air. She trailed a finger over the wood and hoped, not for the first time, that she'd been correct in her designs.

In another life, this likely would have been her child's birthday. She would be in bed, exhausted but happy, holding her newborn while her husband proudly broke the news to waiting friends and family downstairs. She wondered what it looked like. Her light hair or John's darker color? Her nose? His cheekbones? A son? A daughter?

Resting her hand on the casing, she said goodnight. It was a nightly ritual for her to come down and check, press a fingertip kiss to the casing and silently wish her child goodnight. James knew but never mentioned it and for that she was grateful. It seemed so weak and so silly to care for what was in reality a complex of frozen cells. The rational scientist within her cautioned distance because this was an experiment with an uncertain end. Helen's heart whispered longing, hopes and fears. It needed the connection, however small. Now her child would be thousands of miles from her. It would never know Helen was not there in the evening, but she would and she was finding this to be a painful severance.

"Helen? The carriage is here," James called down the steps.

"Thank you James," Helen called back, taking her leave of the machine. The irrational, fanciful part of her mind hoped her child's spirit was not suffering through this frozen sleep as she climbed the steps.

* * *

**September 1944**

Years passed and though Helen did not age, she found she changed. Work consumed her life. There was so much to do and she'd been granted the rare gift of ample time to do it all. Through their combined ingenuity, James was her constant companion as the years passed. She occasionally saw Nigel and Nikola at first, then Tesla disappeared, off to parts unknown, and Griffin grew old. But there was so much to discover, so much to learn and so many new advances to be used and investigated. She upgraded the machine with newer techniques and science, trusting that her earlier work had a solid foundation. Helen found she visited the machine and its sealed chamber less and less often. There was much to be done and even if she was going to live forever, discoveries didn't happen on their own.

Friends grew old and died, technology improved, empires rose and fell, the world went to war, declared peace, then marched into battle once more. Where once they had been fanciful objects of curiosity, airplanes now flew overhead constantly, like mechanical Valkyries.

And then the bombs started to fall.

She hadn't slept in four days. Helen slept less and less as the years passed, but four days was unusual even for her. The generator barked and clanked, each sound sending a jolt of fear through her. The irregular pounding had stopped hours ago and the rain of explosives had ceased for now. It would return with the night.

The corner of the house had been destroyed. She could smell the soot and debris in the air, smell the smoke of fires and the scent of death that hung over London. It mingled with the scent of her welding torch, the chemicals she'd been mixing and the precious gasoline which ran her generator. Her vision swam, but she forced her eyes to remain open and watch the dials of the new machine. Helen refused to look at the burned wreckage of the older model after she'd cannibalized it for parts.

"Helen? Good heavens, Helen!"

Helen blinked at the dials, sure she had not built them to speak to her. She started at the hand on her shoulder, turning to see James. His face was streaked with soot and his clothes were likewise dirty, his left sleeve singed. "James?"

"Helen, are you alright? What happened?"

Helen returned her gazed to the dials and coughed in the sooty air. "Please check it for me, James. I believe I have made the correct calculations, but the bedlam made it difficult."

"Helen," James muttered, half scolding, half relieved. Nevertheless, he began to examine the machine with a careful eye.

Helen blinked as her vision tunneled. She leaned against a large chunk of masonry and watched James. She blinked again and found she'd been wrapped in a dirty blanket from upstairs. The sun had risen and was now high in the sky. Terrified, she bolted upright, checking the dials on the machine.

"Everything is fine, Helen," James called out as he made his way across the basement. "Sit before you fall down. Drink some water."

"Is-"

"I checked everything myself. You've done a miraculous job, but I did make a few modifications to make it more sturdy in case we're attacked again tonight. I didn't think you'd mind."

"I have to take it away from here. I have to keep it safe." Helen blinked, focusing on James as if really seeing him for the first time that morning, "did you get everyone out?"

"I got my group out of the city. They're headed north and should be at the safe house."

"Good, now I need to move this out."

"Helen, its obvious you've been awake for four days."

"I can be awake for one more. We need to get on a train out of here. Help me arrange it?"

James set his jaw but nodded and called over to some of their assistants. Helen stood and examined the changes James had made. He'd reinforced the containing unit and the generator.

"Oy!"

Helen looked up to see a boy in a soot streaked scout uniform peering into the basement through the hole in the wall.

"Any fires in there?" the child asked.

"No. We've got it under control," Helen called back.

"There's a nasty blaze down the way, you ought to move until its out."

"We'll be moving soon. Thank you!"

Helen shook her head and began to look around for anything which could crate the machine. James returned with word that he'd managed to secure a truck to carry the machine and its components, but the rail tracks were still being cleared.

"Buy the vehicle. We'll load it and leave the city."

"Leave the city?" James questioned.

Helen nodded. "I have been remiss in my duties. I moved everyone out but the most helpless member of my household." She held up a hand to forestall his comment. "Please make the arrangements."

James withdrew, giving quiet orders to the few remaining household staff who'd been too stubborn to leave until Helen had. The grand dining table upstairs had been already destroyed by the bombings so she demolished it to make a crate. She lined the edges with pillows from the couches, an older mattress from one of the guest rooms and the heavy curtains from the sitting room. The drive out of London was disheartening, which, she supposed, had been the point of the bombings . Some neighborhoods were untouched while others had been leveled. The smell of the smoke and fires hung in the air until they were well out of the city and into the country. Night fell and dawn broke before they reached their destination.

They finally reached the small country home. When the machine had been safely installed in the barn and the generator checked and rechecked, Helen finally decided she could sleep. She pressed her fingertips to her lips then to the machine's casing in a silent goodnight. Draping one of the heavy curtains over a pile of hay, she made a quick bed and finally fell asleep.

* * *

**May 1951**

Helen and time moved forward together, making acquaintances and friends then passing them by. It had been exciting at first, but after a time she began to look on each birthday with less and less favor. The weight of years pressed on her shoulders; Helen sought solace in her work and in the people she could meet. Neither could fill the gaping holes that seemed to be at the edges of her soul, and nothing seemed to dull the pain of losing friends, colleagues and even lovers to time or events.

She'd moved the base of her operations to North America during the war and had found a property the exceeded all her requirements. The purchase would be a significant impact on her budget, but it was well worth it. She had her father's plans and the new property would allow her the space to build. James had been overseeing the rebuild in London since the war's end and Helen was confidant in leaving the UK branch in his capable hands.

With the central gallery complete, work had been directed to other locations on the old monastery grounds; primarily to the reinforcement and additions to the lower levels. The glass ceiling had cost quite a bit, but the reward was natural sunlight during the day and a view of the stars through the old roof at night.

"There is a poetic justice to living in an actual sanctuary," James commented dryly.

Helen grinned. "I've been wondering when you'd break down and make a joke. You've been here a whole week." She sipped her tea and winked, "I'd given you a day."

Chuckling, James replied, "I'm allowed to be the unpredictable one on occasion, Helen." He set his tea down on the heavy wooden table they'd moved down after the work crews had left and examined the complicated box. Tubes ran from the box to the metal contraption on his chest.

"At first I was going to restore the roof," Helen explained as she looked at the stars. "But then I stepped building and looked up. This is such a wonderful old building, it didn't feel right to demolish her. The masonry that remains is still breathtaking. It reminded me of Glastonbury Abby under the stars. That same wonderful peace." Smiling ruefully, she added, "and I supposed I didn't feel right tearing down a building older than I am."

James chuckled and fished a small box out of his coat pocket, setting it on the folder he'd brought down with him and put on the table. He checked his watch, an old pocket model Helen had seen him use many times over the years, then replaced it, picking up his tea once more.

"How are the treatments?" Helen inquired. "You look as fit as ever so I assume your calculations have been as brilliant as ever."

Smiling, James nodded as he rested an elbow against the table. "Quite well. I only need to undergo a full run of the procedure once a year and do some maintenance every few months. The mechanical suit he'd begun to wear had grown over the years, more elaborate and more invasive as he devised ever more clever solutions.

Helen nodded, heart sinking. Years before, James had not needed such frequent assistance from his machines. They had slowed his aging but had not stopped it. While she remained the same, James still aged, though very slowly.

"I am dying Helen, very slowly but I am. I am aging."

"You wear your years well," Helen complimented. It was true. James had grown more distinctive over the years while she had not changed one bit.

"I will not live forever, you know," James pointed out, lowering his voice and looking at her over his teacup.

Helen sipped the warm drink and turned her gaze back to the stars.

"You may visit them one day," James remarked, looking out the heavy glass set into the solid steel frame. "The stars. I wonder what worlds you will find."

"James," Helen closed her eyes. She did not want to be reminded of his mortality.

"Will you take your daughter with you when you see them?"

Helen's eyes snapped open and she gaped at James.

He arched a bushy brow as he drank. "Or will you free her from that blasted prison of ice and maybe let her see them for herself rather than be checked as luggage."

Helen's jaw snapped closed with a clack of teeth as she stood in anger. "You go too far, James."

"Do I Helen?" He asked, weary. His machine made a small sound and he began the elaborate process of disconnecting himself from the main unit.

Helen sat down, stunned by the age in James's voice, wondering why he'd named her child as a girl.

"I am old and getting older every year. I cannot out run the end forever." He reached out and grasped her hands, looking her in the eye. "I would very much like to meet my goddaughter before I pass on." Squeezing her hands, he added, "I would like to see you happy."

"How do you- You found that out in the test?"

Nodding, James slid the folder over to her, but prevented her from taking it. "As you will see from the cell culture we took during the last transfer, a perfectly healthy girl." He tapped the box on the folder. "Both the file and the box are my presents to you, as I believe it is now your birthday."

"James," Helen trailed off, unable to express what she felt at the moment.

Standing, James collected his machinery and bowed. "It is past my bedtime. Please enjoy your gifts and I look forward to seeing you in the morning." He straightened and gave her a sad smile. "Please consider letting her have a birthday while I am still around to enjoy it."

Helen watched him walk off into the dark of the unfurnished room, metal servos on his legs whirring. She moved the box to one side and opened the folder, greedily taking in the medical information James had gleaned from the tests of the cellular sample they'd taken. It- she, was perfectly preserved and the cells responded to their proposed method of revitalization after removal from the cryoprotectants. Further, the karyotype revealed the gender.

Helen leaned against the table, taking the information in. Suddenly the small collection of frozen tissue was once again a life that she was responsible for. She'd lost sight of that a second time and it hurt. The idea of a daughter left her feeling elated, but knowing what waited for her was terrifying as well. She took the folder and the unopened box and made her way to the laboratory she'd begun to set up.

The machine hummed at the edge of hearing with smooth efficiency. The surface was chrome and insulating ceramics. Inside, a liquid nitrogen bath surrounded a tube which contained a vitrification compound derived from her father's study of Abnormals who lived in the coldest environments on the planet. She'd gambled on that and according to James, had won.

She wasn't ready. Biting her lip, Helen checked the gauges and readings, knowing they would be correct, but needing to check them anyway. She wasn't ready and the world...the world was unkind to single mothers still. What would she say to her little girl anyway?

It was after midnight, which meant she was a hundred years old. If her child had been born, she would have been sixty-two. Helen felt very old again. She sank into one of the folding chairs she'd brought down. Realizing she still held the box James had given to her, she opened it. The necklace was a single diamond in a silvery setting on a silvery chain she belatedly recognized as platinum. It was an elegant birthday gift, but Helen found the information in the folder was more precious.

Helen put the necklace on then folded her hands together and, resting her arms on her knees, she watched the cryogenic machine for a few moments. Coming to a decision, Helen rose, kissed her fingers and touched them to the surface, completing once more the goodnight ritual she'd started a lifetime ago. She wasn't ready, it still hurt too badly, but someday she'd be able to welcome her daughter.

* * *

**October 1984**

Ashley had huge blue eyes, wisps of blonde hair and Helen couldn't stop looking at her. The newly named Uncle James had dutifully taken pictures and Polaroids were being passed around the rest of the house, leaving Helen alone with her infant. Ashley was an alert baby, constantly looking at the world. Having read the most recent research on childhood development, Helen knew her eyesight wasn't very developed yet, but even now she could not only recognize the basic pattern of a face, she could recognize Helen's voice.

Helen traced the contour of her face and ears, touched the tiny mark on her neck then trailed over her hands. Ashley grasped her mother's finger, a simple application of stimulus and response, but Helen still saw it as a miracle. She'd survived ninety seven years of being a frozen hope and now she was a warm, living weight in Helen's arms.

Ashley had been nursed and changed for the first time earlier and now seemed content to be cuddled. Helen watched her watching the world and contemplated her daughter. She wondered what her favorite color would be, what sort of music she'd like, What she'd like learning in her schooling, what she'd become as she grew older. And she would grow older with every day and every year.

Then one day, Helen would be alone again.

Helen nuzzled her daughter's head and left a light kiss on her forehead. Sniffing, she wiped her eyes with her free hand. Ashley silently watched from her arms and Helen bit back a sob. Only now did she understand what pain she'd unintentionally set herself up for. She'd thought she could face the world after having the love of her child, after having that experience. Helen knew now that she'd miscalculated severely.

"Helen?"

Helen looked up, startled. She hadn't heard James come back in. She hurriedly wiped her eyes.

James pulled a seat close to Helen's bedside and sat down. "What happened? Is Ashley well?"

"She's fine," Helen told him, managing a watery smile before she had to look away. "She's perfect. I've just made a miscalculation."

"Then what ever is the matter?" he paused then asked carefully, "You don't regret-"

Shaking her head, Helen cut him off, "No. No, she's wonderful and I have never felt so deeply but James, that's the problem." She cooed at her daughter, taking the moment to gather herself together. "One day she'll leave me too, James."

"Oh, Helen," James murmured.

"Then I'll truly be alone." She laughed sadly as she cuddled Ashley closer. "Even now I don't regret it. There is a very dark and cold moment coming that I would give anything to never have to live through."

"Surely you'd given some thought to this."

Nodding, Helen offered a wan smile. "I didn't understand."

"Have you also thought she may have your particular gift?" James offered.

"I love her too much to wish that upon her."

Nodding, James asked, "Have you thought also that she may one day have a family? Children? Grandchildren?"

Helen blinked. She hadn't thought of that in depth, and certainly not with the understanding she had now. "I will never ask her to do that for me."

"Who says you would need to ask her? It's entirely possible she may find someone wonderful to love." Reaching over, James touched Helen's shoulder. "You've drifted along, attending life's party as a wallflower for far too long. Enjoy life Helen. Stop being an observer and join the dance, won't you?"

Ducking her head, Helen asked, "I suppose that's your poetic way of telling me not to be sorry for myself and to enjoy the time I have with her?"

"Precisely," James said, squeezing her shoulder.

Helen let out a shaky breath. Likely part of her emotional reaction was due to the hormones, but she knew that wasn't the whole truth of it. The certain darkness terrified her in a way she'd never experienced before. "But after, what will I do?"

"I have every confidence you'll be surrounded by friends and family, sharing stories of the fun you had." Straightening he added with a wink, "including the adventures with Uncle James."

Helen nodded. "You are a genius, so I suppose I should know by now to listen to you."

"Quite." He stood and replaced the chair. "It seems I am forever telling you to rest. Ashley's fallen asleep," he remarked, brushing the girl's hair back from her face with a finger, "I think you should get some rest as well."

"While I can, you mean?" Helen asked, a small smirk tugging her lips.

James chuckled. "Do you need assistance?"

"We'll be fine," Helen assured.

"Then I'll be back to check on you in a few hours," he said, leaving.

Helen slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Ashley. She ached, but the physical pains were fading. Despite the fear, she still looked at her child with a giddy happiness. She wasn't alone and despite what the future held, she had these moments at least. Helen kissed the top of Ashley's head and settled her into the bassinet.

"Goodnight."

~Fin


End file.
